


Lacy, Gently Wafting, Curtains

by peacefulboo



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Curtain Fic, Domestic, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 18:38:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1658450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacefulboo/pseuds/peacefulboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Downtime for the OT3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lacy, Gently Wafting, Curtains

**Author's Note:**

> This was posted on tumblr like a month ago. Just now getting around to putting it up here. Hope you find this soothing to read.

Grocery shopping is still something of a novelty for Oliver.

Felicity finds this simultaneously embarrassing and hilarious. She knows, fundamentally, that Oliver is far from the spoiled ass hole that many make him out to be – his scars alone are proof of this – but she still finds the fact that he’s only been to a grocery store a handful of times to be a flaw in his character.

When Sara reminds them that they have jack shit left in the house and it’s time to make a grocery run, he’s game to go with them. It’s rare that they all have time off at the same time these days, and when they do, they tend to burrow into their bed and not come up for air till the last possible second, but they have the entire day free this time and if they’re going to indulge in some A++ shenanigans later they need some sustenance.

“I said we needed sustenance, not booze.” Sara rolls her eyes at Felicity as she heads toward the corner of the market that houses the wine and beer. They have beer and vodka and scotch in the loft.

“Wine is sustenance.” Felicity doesn’t even pause. This store is pretty small and their selection is limited but Felicity’s just happy she can afford the wine in the twenty to thirty dollar range these days instead of slummin’ it with the Barefoot.

Sara doesn’t put up more than a token protest. She adores the way Felicity flushes when she’s two glasses in and starts to loosen up.

After grabbing four bottles of wine they make their way through the store. Rather, they meander up and down aisles grabbing things at random before doubling back and grabbing more. Oliver pushes the cart and Sara stays close to him, her hand hooked in his back pocket. They both watch as Felicity chooses products seemingly at random. Cherry Pop-Tarts, Lays potato chips (plain), ginger ale, string cheese, french bread, raisin bran, strawberry yogurt, and whole fruit popsicles.

Sara is a bit more precise in her selections. Vine ripened tomatoes, squash, spinach, dark green leaf lettuce, cucumber, carrots, red potatoes, yellow onions, red grapes, blueberries, bananas (Felicity likes bananas), peaches, coconut milk, pasta, eggs, stew meat, better cuts of beef, and some pork that she can freeze easily. She plans meals in her head, even though she rarely gets to make them.

Oliver is too tired to care much, but trusts that Sara has their part of the food selection under control.

The talk very little as they make their way around and around the store, but Oliver and Felicity share a look when Sara’s dithering over which kind of potatoes to get, and Oliver and Sara roll their eyes when Felicity grabs the Pop-Tarts. Sara and Felicity hold hands as they wait in line at the cash register. And Oliver pays. Because he’s a billionaire and he’s done explaining that to them.

“We’re never going to eat all this,” Sara admits as soon as they’ve loaded their purchases in the car.

“Probably not.” Oliver admits as he shuts her door and moves around to the driver’s side.

As soon as they arrive home, Sara strips down to her underwear and cami and Felicity moves back over to their curtained off bedroom to change into pajama shorts and a white tank. Oliver takes off his shoes and rolls up the sleeves on his shirt, but otherwise doesn’t change. Felicty has spent the last year trying to convince him that he doesn’t have to be fully dressed in the common areas when it’s just the three of them, after all he sure as hell doesn’t stay fully dressed in the lair, but the etiquette his mother drilled into him when he was young seems to have sunk in too deep.

Sara washes her hands and then dives into preparing the meat, potatoes, onions and carrots for a stew, making quick work of the cutting and chopping. She flours the meat and sears it before throwing the prepped veggies and browned meat into a large pot of broth with some spices and Worcestershire sauce.

“Oh. We totally should have gotten some cornbread mix,” Felicity says as she watches Sara putting it all together on the stove and pouring all three of them a glass of wine.

“The bread you got should be good. But check the cupboard and see if we have any of the mix.”

They don’t, but the bread isn’t the freshest since it’s late in the day so it will pair nicely with the stew.

Oliver helps Sara clean up a bit and they all settle in on the couch as they wait for the stew to finish. Sara’s in the middle this time, which is rare. Oliver is sprawled out against the arm of the couch with Sara sprawled out over him. Felicity is leaning against the other arm with her legs tangled up in theirs.

“Shit. Thea called this morning to ask if we’d go to brunch with your mother and George.” Roy at brunch is still a hilarious concept. He’s so uncomfortable that it completely shifts the focus from how completely awkward it still is for Felicity and Moira to be in the same room together.

Both Oliver and Sara grunt in response. Suddenly a late night mission doesn’t seem so off putting now.

“What did you tell her.”

“That we’d be there. We’ve missed two month’s worth and she’s starting to feel abandoned to your mother and step-father.” The step-father who isn’t Walter. Moira’s third husband is not on the list and has been thoroughly vetted by Felicity and he seems like a perfectly nice gentleman, but no one is in a hurry to get to know him. Which is yet another reason Moira is constantly put out with her son. And her daughter. And her son’s girlfriends – who are, of course – another reason she’s put out with her son.

Oliver doesn’t reply, resigned to an awkward morning. He quickly puts those thoughts into a different part of his head as he runs his hand through Sara’s hair and rubs his foot against Felicity’s leg in acknowledgment.

They doze off and on as the house fills more and more with the scent of the stew. At some point, Felicity drags the large ottoman that came with the sectional over so it’s flush with the couch so she can curl into Oliver and Sara. She falls asleep to Sara running her fingers up and down her spine.

They wake to the microwave timer going off, letting them know the stew is done. Sara slowly untangles herself from the two of them first, her face and arm imprinted with the wrinkles from Oliver’s shirt. She smiles as Felicity groans and snuggles in closer to Oliver. Felicity is strong and outspoken and can be a bit of a pitbull when she has an idea she doesn’t want to let go of, but she’s a damn cuddle-bug, too. Thing is, so is Oliver if you get him relaxed enough. He loves to hug and touch and kiss. He needs his space, too. They all do. But they’ve all had long enough stretches of being touch-starved that when they get the chance they tend to always be in contact.

She makes a salad while they shake out the sleep and Oliver and Felicity set the table and pour more wine, though Sara drinks a porter with her meal. The stew is good. Simple but good. The wine is decent, the porter is good considering it’s bottled and Oliver switches halfway through the meal.

Between the nap and the food they feel more alert.

As they get up to clean, Felicity lets her hands linger on Sara’s hips, her thumbs rubbing against the skin exposed between Sara’s cami and her boy shorts, as she passes to put the left-over salad in the fringe. Oliver presses a kiss to the back of Sara’s neck.

“Thank you,” he whisper’s.

“You’re welcome.” She turns and kisses him on the lips, smiling.

“Go. We’ve got this.” There isn’t much clean up to do (Felicity would have killed for this dishwasher growing up) and soon everything’s put away, the washer is humming and all the lights are turned off except the one above the stove. By the time Oliver has double checked the door and windows, Felicity and Sara are under the covers making out and giggling.

He watches them for a moment, letting himself fully enjoy the moment, before undressing and joining them in the bed.


End file.
